


Bite at the Moon

by FicticiousDelicious



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Blood, DO NOT REPOST MY FANWORKS, F/M, Halloween, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Horror, Lycans, M/M, Other, Sex, Slash, Slightly Alternate Universe, Supernatural Elements, Transformation, Violence, Werewolves, Work In Progress, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-27 05:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21113207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FicticiousDelicious/pseuds/FicticiousDelicious
Summary: To bark at the moon is less than to attack it with one's own fangs, but is it any wiser? A mysterious relationship between two supposed werewolves will either kill someone or find them connected in an unimaginable way..This story is ongoing. Keep checking for new chapters.This is an Ao3 exclusive story! You'll only find it here.!!Disclaimer!! I do not own the characters or settings mentioned in Bite at the Moon nor do I make any profit of any kind from their mention. Ownership of these Bleach characters and settings goes to Tite Kubo. All Characters © Tite KuboDeviantArt.com/FicticiousDelicious or FicticiousDelicious.Tumblr.com





	1. Mistakes Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not promising that this will get done in time for Halloween, or ever finished, but the exposition is solid. If you like it so far, say something! I write for myself but I publish for others [and me].  
Consider this a warning: this story is not going to be very gentle.
> 
> Mind the Ao3 tags to this story as it is updated because some will be added, though the main ones are already there.

When he was a little boy Ichigo Kurosaki learned a hard lesson when he disobeyed his father and stubbornly ran off into a children’s playground which his father Isshin had brought him and his little sisters to in the late hours of dusk. They were supposed to be going home as soon as the sun was setting but Ichigo didn’t want to leave. With two toddlers in his arms and no one else to watch them Isshin couldn’t catch his young son as the nimble young one fled, weaving through the playground equipment in the lesser light of dusk and…_disappeared_.

Little Ichigo had run through the playground equipment swiftly and nimbly. Avoiding other kids and their parents and weaving between supportive metal bars to a big fixture, around some upright toys which had different colored pieces that spun, swinging by on some monkey-bars, sliding stealthily down a slide Ichigo had successfully escaped his dad. Sly Ichigo then hid in some bushes that bordered the playground where he could see if his dad was nearby or not.

A frantic Isshin, with his two daughters tucked in his arms, had moved to look for his son on a further section of the playground because he just couldn’t see Ichigo anywhere. There were a few parents with their kids left around the moderately big playground which made it a little more difficult to spot Ichigo individually. It was like playing a terrifying game of Where’s Waldo only Waldo was orange instead of red and white and brown. Still carrying his other two toddlers, who couldn’t understand what was wrong, Isshin asked many mothers if they’d seen a little boy with orange hair. Ichigo couldn’t be so hard to spot, could he? It was just getting dark and Isshin was getting very worried.

With a sort of vantage point Ichigo snuck out of the bushes once his dad was far enough away. The little boy booked it over toward the empty swing sets and, just as he was getting there…_tripped!_ He dropped belly-down right in front of the swings and scraped his knees and chin on the woodchips and whimpered but didn’t bawl his eyes out right away. Crawling up to stand the little boy wobbled toward the swings but instead of sitting on one of them he sat down by one of the metal bars that held them up and hugged his stinging knees to his chest with teary eyes that were so upset he almost looked angry. His chin stung too…Ichigo was not having such a good time anymore. He sat there alone by the swings fending off the urge to cry because he remembered how Tatsuki yelled at him for doing that…

Ichigo was almost invisible here in this corner of the park like he was, huddled and hiding from everything. He didn’t want anyone to notice that he’d hurt himself. He sniffled and whether he liked it or not the pooling tears on the rims of his eyes dripped down once there was too much. He sniffled more and blinked. This hurt…he didn’t equate this to being his fault for being so stubborn…yet. Ichigo’s big hazel eyes rolled one way as the bushes around this area with swings started rustling. They kept rustling. With the distraction his tears quickly dried up.

What was that?

Little Ichigo found himself forgetting his scrapes and standing up with wobbly steps toward the bushes. “Are you stuck?” he asked as he arrived by the plants. He figured there was someone else hiding here or maybe a little animal. There was no reply. He reached to pull the bushes apart where they were shaking around and something bit his hand. It bit him _hard_. Crying out and yanking his tiny hand back Ichigo stumbled away from the bushes as something scruffy fell out of the sticks and leaves and dragged itself a distance through the woodchips. It was hard to see what it was but by the time the boy thought to get a better look it the thing had picked itself up and run off.

Ichigo looked down at his bitten hand and saw a lot of blood from the deep punctures. Now he started crying. _Loudly_.

It took a very short amount of time for Isshin to hear something suspicious and a minute later he found Ichigo sitting on the ground by the swings bawling his eyes out with a very bloody hand, a scraped chin and skinned knees. It scared Isshin the most when he realized that his son had been bitten by something and not seeing any evidence of the thing that had chomped his little boy, Isshin took Ichigo home as fast as he could, gave his son a shot for the bite and cleaned him up in the family clinic.

Ichigo got rinsed off of dust, dirt and blood; his scrapes and such were sanitized after Isshin picked little pieces of wood out of them with tweezers, a whole bunch of bandages, another sucky shot and some stitches. The little boy had really paid the price for being a rebel tonight, unfortunately the whole fiasco had an impact on his dad too. They never could match the bite pattern to anything…but those teeth marks would forever be scars on Ichigo’s hand's tender skin and what he didn’t know about this was…that it was more than just a little nibble… The consequences that Ichigo would learn of were bigger than any present discomfort.

Read ALL my fanfictions on ArchiveofOurOwn.org. Art via: DeviantArt.com/FicticiousDelicious or FicticiousDelicious.Tumblr.com


	2. Bite at the...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Lycanthropy’ is a great word, you know. Lycans and werewolves are just a little bit different but I’m considering blurring the line.

As a teenager Ichigo started to forget the details of this childhood incident and gradually wrote it off altogether as minor but that series of indented scars on his hand made him think vaguely about it from time to time, even though when he thought about the incident it only had a fuzzy and vague impression of ‘when I was a kid I tried to pet a wild animal at the park’. That was just what he’d figured it was, nothing more and nothing less. However…subconsciously Ichigo grew up with a nurtured aversion to that playground after the fact…and whenever his father had tried to take him there again he didn’t leave Isshin’s side the whole time or refused to go. As a teenager it got much easier to just refuse to go because he could be left home alone safely.

However…those consequences… A handful of times out of the year Ichigo found that he would wake up with no idea what he’d done for an _entire_ evening straight into morning. After waking up he would have a pounding headache and sometimes feel extremely tired or sore and have fresh injuries on his body. It was weird to say the least, but he never told anyone else, including friends, about this and no one never _seemed_ to notice him doing anything suspicious. Ichigo chalked up this weird lapse in memory to sleepwalking or having a violent dream or something. He never considered that it might be his bite’s fault…because that just didn’t make any sense.

One fall afternoon Ichigo was laying lazily on the living room couch and flipping through television channels when his father and two sisters passed by the back of the couch on their way out of the house. It was years ago when he was a child that he would run around in the fallen leaves outside and enjoy the outdoors but now he had a more ‘mature’ interest in staying inside to appreciate the dark décor, enjoy cider and pumpkin goods that Yuzu baked and of course…watch terrifying horror or very exaggerated paranormal shows on TV.

“ICHIGO.”

Attention yanked from the television, Ichigo jumped and looked irritated over the back of the couch while horror screams played in the background, from a television framed by strands of wine, dirty tangerine and brownish colored fake leaves. Isshin, his dad, had called his name. Why did his old man have to give him such a start?! Always…always testing his patience Isshin was. Ichigo had almost crushed a bag of pumpkin spice jalapeno chips that he had under an arm in his moderate surprise.

“We’re going to get candy for Halloween…don’t spoil your dinner, son,” Isshin remarked. “Do you want anything from the store?”

Ichigo shook his head, “No, thanks dad.” His left his head tilted slightly back to see his family standing behind the couch. Isshin was unremarkable with just an orange fall tie with a pumpkin printed on its thicker end on and in his dress clothes from work, their clinic, but Ichigo’s sisters were wearing seasonable fall colors – Yuzu in a dress of orange, yellow, black and red printed leaves and Karin in sporty clothes that were just plain red, orange and black; they looked adorable for one being the most sugary-sweet person and the other a sharp little shit.

Karin sighed loudly at her brother. “I hope you didn’t go to school like that…”

Yuzu giggled and stared at her brother’s hair; Ichigo’s hair was always a fall season’s brand of orange but right now it was badly mussed and it made him look unusually wild.

“What..?” Ichigo narrowed his eyes at Karin, switching them to Isshin when a remark again from his father came quickly after. Ichigo was wearing clothing too…of course he was wearing clothing, but it was just black socks, basic jeans and a red and black checkered long-sleeve shirt – his after-school clothes.

“Maybe you should hop in the shower while we’re gone…you look a little mangy, son.” Isshin’s suggestion was a fair one.

“C’mon dad…that’s not very nice. I’m fine and I’ll take a shower before I go to bed or something.” Ichigo had a flat expression. Why did they pick on him so? He was just relaxing after school…no need to look perfect.

Isshin shrugged, “The werewolves might mistake you for one of them.”

“Not before they’d mistake you, Old Man Scruffy,” Ichigo shot back with the same nickname Isshin had used for a costume last year.

Even Karin had to grin a little at that; normally she didn’t give her brother so much credit for being funny.

Isshin listened. The werewolves were not coming to take him away! …but maybe he did need to trim his beard again…just in case. Isshin rubbed his beard thoughtfully as together with Yuzu and Karin the three left the house to get to the store before it closed for the night and buy their Halloween candies since they were walking. Halloween was coming soon.

Left to peace Ichigo switched off the television after a few minutes following the rest of the family’s departure and the front door closing. He shifted on the comfortable couch and accidentally dropped the bag of chips and it sprayed crumbs all over the wood floor. “Aw f…” Ichigo grumbled and avoided cursing, he was trying not to curse because once you started it was apparently really hard to stop. Reaching for the bag he looked at the bite scar on his right hand as it stretched out with the reach of his hand. Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the mark as it ached; that was because he was moving his hand, he was sure of it because he hadn’t noticed it aching before. More annoyed that he’d made a mess Ichigo ignored the ache and snatched up the chip bag and jumped off of the cushy couch, avoiding the crumbs with his socked feet, and walked to get a dustpan and broom from the kitchen. After putting the rest of the chips back too Ichigo brought the broom and dustpan back into the living room and swept up his mess. The floor was all wooden so it wasn’t bad to clean up, however Ichigo’s right hand was shaking as he carried the crumbs in the dustpan to the trashcan in the kitchen – also decorated for fall and Halloween. That right hand of his was still shaky and ached so much more as he tapped the wide pan against the can to get all of the crumbs out. Ichigo put down the dustpan on the top of the trashcan’s lid and held the broomstick with his elbow, massaging his right hand with the other one. Ouch… Why did this hurt so badly today? He shouldn’t ignore it if it was this bad…

No matter how Ichigo tried, massaging or flexing his hand, the pain didn’t subside. If anything it was getting worse. Ichigo went looking for some relief in the medicine cabinet in the clinic…and no luck! Of course they were out of anything that he wasn’t allergic to. He tried a compress but that only made his pain worse. There were more extreme solutions in the clinic Ichigo knew of but his dad was the doctor here…and it wouldn’t be wise to go poking himself with any heavier medicines that he didn’t know much about. Groaning about his fix the teenager ran upstairs next and grabbed his wallet, house key and cellphone. With thumping feet in socks Ichigo hurried back downstairs and to the house’s front door where he grabbed his plain jacket off of a hook nearby, sneakers went on too, and hurried outside to get to a drugstore after locking the front door to their house. He could handle this…he could handle this… Along the walk the pain in his right hand was starting to take over his whole arm and made moving his fingers excruciating, but Ichigo didn’t whimper or show his suffering; long gone were his young crybaby days. The time of day was just barely edging into evening’s phases, almost twilight, and the sun wasn’t set yet but Ichigo knew that he could probably make it to the drugstore and back before his family returned and worried over him and before it got dark. He didn’t want them to fuss if he could help it. _He_ could handle this.

As pain increased Ichigo started to boogie down the first street at a jog, past all of the festive fall decorations and lights hung on people’s house entranceways and wall-like fences around their homes. He had to make a few confusing turns and cross a couple of streets to get to get to the drugstore, hopefully his dad and his sisters hadn’t gone there for their candy…but Ichigo also had to go past the park that he wasn’t fond of. Twilight took hold of the sky in bold orange-pink and grey-blue. The whole way Ichigo’s ache continued to escalate, from his hand and into his arm…then his shoulder…and through his whole body in a relatively short amount of time. Maybe all of the physical activity of jogging had made it worse? He was starting to reconsider his own decision to handle this alone, there was something very wrong going on. The cool fall air was crisply clear to breathe as Ichigo’s breaths shuddered with pain and the exertion of hastened steps, but for some reason the temperature made him even more uneasy as dusk was creeping up. Flat out running on the sidewalk beside this park, so that he could just hurry past it, Ichigo shuddered to look at the playground but shuddered and shivered even more as his full-body ache began to quickly overwhelm him. He hurt all over very badly. It must have been the physical activity! This painful ache hurt so badly though that it made Ichigo much shorter of breath. Forced to do so Ichigo slowed on the sidewalk and doubled over then fell into the grass beside the park. He was squeezing his eyes shut and holding his arms close to his chest as the agony pierced through his ribs and he felt like he might explode. What was happening to him?! The teenager looked around vaguely for help, doubting that he even had the air to speak, but there was no one around anyway. He’d forgotten about his cellphone in a pocket. Ichigo just laid there managing his breathing and was succeeding at small shallow breaths against the cold grass and dirt. The sun was mostly set and the street lamps were starting to flicker on in the sky’s pink-orange and grey-blue glow.

The pain was debilitating! What was happening?! Was this a cardiac arrest or something? No… This couldn’t all be his hand’s fault could it?! That was where it had started… Ichigo’s body felt tingly now, he suspected it was just going numb because it was overwhelmed but other things that he was slower to notice were happening. The darkness was starting to close in. His limbs were growing excess hair… His anatomy and bones were stretching out and getting a bit larger. Even his hands and feet were changing. There in the grass Ichigo started to realize that his body was doing something unnatural…and it _HURT!_ Clawed fingers dug into the grass and his feet kicked as he thrashed around as ankles turned into hocks and ripped through his shoes. “Someone…help me…_please!_” he rasped weakly and softly into the ground, feeling like he might die. There was just no one around. Twilight was becoming dusk.

The full moon waited above faint but getting bolder behind the ending colors of twilight as haunting, plump clouds moved away from it and cast the world in a new, colder light when dusk overtook the sky and hurried toward night. It glowed ominously full as underneath it all sorts of strange transformations were taking place…

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	3. Wary of the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things have pointed teeth.

While Ichigo’s bodily hair increased tenfold and its structure was hulking-up, his joints making shifts and changes hurt the most of all of this. No longer were his feet normal anymore, clawed sorts of toes from paws stuck out from the burst seams on his shoes after tearing through those and his socks. A moist membrane layer of skin sluffed off around where normal toenails had been busted out by the growth of claws. His hands became larger and coarse, covered over the tops by thick ginger hairs that were like coarse fur and his fingernails had also been replaced with the claws of something fiendish, sluffing off the same sort of membrane around them. He muffled his agony. Ichigo’s exploding amount of bodily hair fluffed as it grew out in obscene amounts covering most of his body and a mane grown upward almost matched the length of the normal hair on his head; this new hair wasn’t the same, it was dense, coarse and very ginger, like _fur_.

Ichigo groaned with a snarling upset sound and pounded the ground with fists and rear paws scraped up grass and dirt. With his body getting larger his casual clothes strained and tore the seams in places, ruining that red and black checkered shirt’s long sleeves, collar and chest plus the thighs and waist of his jeans as they broke too. It was fortunate there wasn’t a belt on him right now. Ichigo’s abdominals and chest were now that of an upside-down bell shape, very broad in the chest, and this strange transformation enhanced muscle mass of this otherwise fairly lean teenager into that of a large man. Ichigo’s clenching teeth started to grow points, fangs, as his face began to elongate into a muzzle and his nose broadened, flattened out and blackened. Painfully his ears grew up into triangular shapes, morphed to points and covered partially by his mane that blended in with his furry head.

An orange and black-tipped tail broke out of his skin from the end of his tailbone over the edge of his jeans. A bit bloody from tearing through skin, his tail was otherwise bushy and wild as the unfortunate teenager continued to writhe among the grasses, unsure of entirely what was happening to him. Groans of pain were husky and he could hardly think enough to speak or shout for help…but perhaps that was a good thing – not to call attention to himself such as he was presently. The full moon stayed glaringly ominous overhead, an observer or an enabler. Near last, in his writhing, Ichigo felt his vision change as his eyes reconfigured, looking wild and bestial with yellow around the pupils but mostly brownish in color like their original make and he could suddenly see through the dark…

Feeling self-control steadily slipping now Ichigo silently begged his body not to do this, whatever this was, even though he still had no recollection of it ever happening before. It was a strange kind of terror. A streetlamp flickered close by and the fall season’s breeze blew over coarse ginger fur. Torn clothing hanging off of him, the nose of Ichigo’s muzzle wiggled nervously as he sniffed. Every inhale through his flat blackened nose was so damn detailed… His mind was starting to fill in with wolfish ideas and instincts to run and hunt along the shadows of the approaching nighttime. At last the fur spread over his face and muzzle and Ichigo’s senses truly knew it was over… Anticipating…his memory and self-control would soon slip away, just like every other time when the moon was full. He would transform and forget all of the agonizing parts to the transformation and the events leading up to it, but then run renegade through the night doing whatever his bestial whims pleased and later awake in his home in his normal human body and minor injuries from his time roaming yet no memory of his activities… The werewolf of Karakura.

Before he lost his mind Ichigo glimpsed something else nearby in the dark.

It was another creature, half-transformed into a wolfish state watching coldly with large round blue eyes. It sat in the night’s dark shades of the park, with a menacingly large shadow, far enough away that it could easily turn tail and flee if it wanted to. Its fur-covered body’s build was perhaps quite a bit bigger, it wore no clothes and more of its face was exposed skin with a short muzzle. Probably not anyone in a Halloween costume…it was too elaborate. The grey and blue furred creature waited under the night air…unlit by the ominous moon. Patient. Like it knew what to expect.

Trembling a changed Ichigo briefly reached a bestial arm coated in fur, with rigid and wicked claws on the ends of fingers, out toward the strange figure far off. He opened his mouth to plead for help but his voice cracked with a growl and the extended limb dropped limply and Ichigo lay still on the shredded ground in torn garments.

The distant stranger stood up, imposing with its half wolfish and half human build, raising up on two legs. The moonlight and street lights reflecting on its round eyes, it turned to walk away with a coordinated two-legged stride…back through the dark park and disappeared from view in between the park’s playground fixtures. Its blue and grey fur bristled in the night air as vigilant eyes and swiveling ears watched and listened to everything with very heightened senses.

A ways back near the outer sidewalk of the park, Ichigo’s wolfish body twitched and lurched, tail thrashing anxiously, and with more rapid breathing and a hunched sort of posture the still very alive teenager lifted himself anew…stood on the grass under flickering streetlamps, fur bristled, and took strong breaths through his nose. His maned and wolfish head tilted as ears swiveled while his nose sniffed the many scents upon the night’s breeze. Ichigo’s sentient _human_ mind was gone…and the parts of the world unfortunate enough to not be sleeping were getting his attention. With a growl the ginger furred werewolf caught several scents of interest and in between the light to dark of streetlamp flickers he vanished from the light and stalked in the shade quietly looking for what he smelled. A loud howl echoed through the park…

The stranger that had perhaps only come to see the transformation of one similar to himself calmly looked up from a distance away as a howl rang out and carried on the open air – enticing many dogs from people’s homes to howl and bark. The stranger looked at the moon, took a deep sniff of the air and stayed where he was. The werewolf was close again. It was coming…_following_ him. The stranger ran along for a greater distance, climbing into the dense foliage of a steep hill beside the park and running between the trees where hardly any light reached. Rustling and snapping branches. He broke through to a slight clearing on the slope where another figure whipped around and snarled at him until they seemed to recognize his scent or form. The grey and blue wolfish stranger lifted his short-muzzled head and as his pointed ears tilted back he howled up into the night, inviting the werewolf in pursuit to follow him with even more ease.

The other figure here, a blonde woman looked pointedly wary and then extremely irritated and concerned as she stepped back into the trees around the clearing and crouched down cautiously. “What are you doing?!”

The stranger, a lycan of sorts tilted his head up and howled a long sound again, far from the domestic dogs in yards that his noise might tempt to howl and bark back. When he stopped he directed words back to the woman among the bushes. “Handling an _invader_.” Tense minutes passed in the small, hilly, isolated clearing but he could smell the werewolf getting closer and closer…until snapping jaws leapt out of the bushes and attacked with little notice. Expertly blocking being bitten on the chest the lycan was still bitten by this ginger werewolf as it clamped its teeth down on his forearm. He bore the pain and whipped the werewolf down onto its back against rocks on the ground, jamming his sturdy forearm into the hinge of the other creature’s maw.

The werewolf yelped a wolfish sound and relinquished the force of his bite as he wriggled while the lycan attempted to break his jaw, or at least so it would seem. The moon cast ominously through the trees and the wind rustled leaves as the sounds of scuffling, heavy breathing and vast discomfort were rife.

Pinning the werewolf down with brute strength and a hind paw stepping on the werewolf’s torso, this lycan _wouldn’t_ let the werewolf’s head shake his fur-dusted and bloody forearm out of its mouth as his remaining free hand grabbed its muzzle by the nose and helped this process. A hand covering the werewolf’s nose would make it hard for the creature to breathe and thus struggle less until it fell unconscious.

One almost had the other…but among whining sounds and snarling the werewolf kicked, raking the stranger across his side, and scratched at hands clamped on his muzzle until the injured lycan let go. Once free and unbalancing his opponent the werewolf wasted no time, jumped up and lunged with an immediate ferocity typical of its type, but mustering considerably more strength, and knocked the wolfish stranger to the ground, took a quick bite and a _chunk_ out of the side of the stranger’s partially human-looking face…

“AAAAAGHH!” In rage with a roar of savage pain the stranger hurled the werewolf off of himself and against a tree hard enough to knock it down; the other beast also seemed to have spit out that chunk of flesh upon impact as there were some bloody bits left upon the ground. The stranger’s face wept generous amounts of blood, the fleshy section of his cheek to his jaw revealed the progression of fangs to molars in one side of his mouth before he grabbed the bleeding spot and tried to…save some face. The pain was excruciating but to have been overpowered that quickly and injured in such an obvious spot well…this werewolf had just ruined his fucking face and his pride!

Slow to get up the werewolf wheezed and whined in canine fashion and stumbled on all-fours as the lycan, more humanoid than wolf perhaps, came after him as he fled into the woods of the hill and making for an escape with some probably very smashed up ribs or worse.

The stranger, a lycan or half-wolf and half-man, named Grimmjow had pursued just to the knocked-down tree and then dropped to his knees; his side ran with blood and hands were cut up and scraped. There was practically red in his blood-shot blue eyes as the front-most teeth that were fangs clenched as tightly as his one clawed and severely bloody hand over his cheek. Maybe it was just easier to _kill it_…even if he had created that monster in the first place… Maybe he was having a vicious change of heart.

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